Busillis
by Calathiel of Mirkwood
Summary: Legolas arrives in Rivendell a little weary...trouble ensues.


Disclaimer: No, I don't own Lord of the Rings. If I did...well, let's just be content with that.

The title is latin for "_Baffling puzzle or difficult point". _

**Busillis**

Valar, the wind is so warm, Legolas thought lazily, his eyes drifting shut of their own accord. He tipped his chin up to catch the fullest gust of the late summer wind. Dusk was claiming the hills about Imladris and he knew that at anytime he could stop and rest. But each time he slowed, he was reminded that it would not do to be late for the feast that night. For it was the greatest annual feast Rivendell hosted, a grand, merry event, full of laughter and dancing.

They were not expecting him. However, that contained no qualms whatsoever. In fact, he might find himself in hot water for staying away so long. Yet in arriving for the grandest event of the year he might just retain his health. For it was not advisable for the strangling of Mirkwood's beloved Prince to be the main event.

As the Homely Houses never retained peace when Legolas arrived, Lord Elrond and the older elves of Imladris did not particularly relish his visits. But the Lord's sons would not be parted from Legolas' sight for longer than five years so, the formal Noldor elves made do.

Suppressing a weary sigh, Legolas nudged the equally worn horse, giving the stead its head. It was an elven horse, being exceptionally intelligent, but he felt the need to do something lest he nod off altogether.

He would not have been so tired if he had not ridden for three days straight and before that helped with four patrols and negotiating the unending stream of disputes originating from Lake Town.

The buzz of the dusky evening filled his ears and the tree's leaves played their soft melody through the thick branches. The whoosh of the whispering wind curling it's warmth through the grasses.

Legolas' head dipped and his crystalline eyes drooped closed. Time passed and Legolas slept on, the gentle cadence of his steed lulling him even farther into the realms of dreams.

Until voices, panicked and loud, invaded his peaceful rest. Lethargically, he pushed their prying hands away, swatting at the poking fingers, and groaning when they continued to converse in excited tones.

He was swept off his stead and cradled in someone's arms. Blearily, he tried to discover who held him. His weary eyes wouldn't focus and the warmth of the other sent him back into sleep.

The moment they began to tug at his tunic he awoke again. "No…saes." He batted at their hands and rolled out of reach.

There was shuffling and the scraping of furniture as they pursued.

He whimpered and batted at the nearest bothersome set of fingers. Didn't he know that he was tired? All he wanted was rest. "Daro i!" /stop that/

Yet the voices only grew louder.

"Sedho, saes." /quiet, please./ His voice was slurred, his tongue still uncooperative.

There was a call for something, clicking of pottery, and then a mug was shoved between his teeth. The mixture that swept over his tongue was caustic, burning all the way down his throat.

It was that concoction that finally brought him to awareness.

"Daro! Daro!" /Stop! Stop/ He shot forward, the violent action tossing a few elves off. "Gwanno ereb nin!" /leave me alone/

There was complete silence and Legolas took the opportunity to look around.

He was in a candle lit room, sitting on a plush coverlet, with three of the best healers in Rivendell crowded about him. Elrond stood at the foot of the bed, a mug in hand. Elrohir and Elladan were on either side of Legolas, hands outstretched as if to catch him.

"Then…" Elrond's forehead creased in thought. "You are not wounded?"

"Of course he's wounded! When is he not wounded?" Elrohir blustered.

"Wounded?" Legolas brushed his temples. What in Varda were they talking about? He was perfectly hale.

"A head injury then." Elladan grinned toothily at his twin. "You owe me a new quiver, 'Ro."

Mutterings, indiscernible even to the elven ear, sounded from Elrohir's side of the bed.

"I did try to warn you. It's always a head injury with the Sindar."

Legolas felt the urge to intervene. Irritated, and still sleepy, he exclaimed, "That's not true, 'Dan, and you know it."

"You mean to tell me that you've never had a head injury?"

"I didn't say that." Legolas slid his legs over to the side of the bed and was about to push off to find the room that was usually his when visiting Imladris.

Strong hands to count halted in him in his tracks and pushed him back to a lying position.

"It would not be wise to move, tithen pen." /little one/ Elrond advised.

"Why ever not? I am weary. I wish to sleep." Legolas couldn't believe what he was hearing. Had all the Noldor gone mad?

"Not until we have assessed your injury." The elven Lord approached with a dreaded mug in hand. "This will dull your pain."

"My injury? Pain? What do you speak of?"

"Legolas, you of all people know what an injury looks like." Elladan huffed. "Now, come on, I left the last raspberry tart to come look after you. Tell us what ail you have acquired."

"I have none."

"In the last fifty years, might I remind you, you have never once arrived without some sort of near mortal wound."

"The Winter Solstice Festival twenty-two years ago." Legolas crossed his arms.

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged glances.

"He's got a point, 'Ro."

"Indeed."

Elladan's face grew wide with impish exultation, an expression that boded trouble. "But he did fracture his ankle in the pass."

"That," Legolas pointed accusing fingers at the pair of identical elves, "was your fault. Not mine."

"We weren't the ones to fall into that ditch."

"But you were the ones in the tree that fell on my foot."

"You cannot blame us for the actions of a tree, mellon nin. That is hardly just. Especially since you are a wood-elf. You did not heed the poor oak's warning."

"And you did?"

The pair fidgeted. "We're Noldo. That's not our specialty."

Elrond cleared his throat loudly.

"Right." Elladan and Elrohir's attention snapped back to Legolas. "We've already established that miring yourself in trouble is a habit so let's just get to the injury, shall we?"

"I have none."

"Legolas…"

"I speak truth. There is none."

Elrohir's brow lifted, transforming his appearance to much like that of his father. "Legolas, the last time we believed that was when you were one-hundred and thirty-three years old."

"And you had a piece of glass as big as a walnut in your foot." Elladan added.

"Believe or not, I have no pains."

"Ah, he is not in pain. Excellent."

"Check his pack for pain-relieving herbs."

Elladan left his station by the bedside and dug through a pack sitting by the door. A moment later he straightened, holding out a packet of herbs.

Elrohir's triumphant smile vanished when, upon inspecting them, he found that they had not been touched for some time.

"Satisfied?"

"Not until you admit an ill."

"Fine. I am weary. Let me sleep." Legolas tried to scoot off the bed and was stopped again.

"Not good enough."

Legolas was about to launch into a lengthy narrative about his actions in the last few days, explaining that he had not harmed himself. He was perfectly well, and they would accept it or he spend the rest of his days making them understand.

It was Elrond that saved him the trouble. "Elladan, Elrohir, I believe our young friend is speaking the truth."

Legolas' eyes widened. The venerable Lord Elrond was defending his claim of good health for him? His father would never believe it…

Elladan and Elrohir's astonishment was no less great. They were about to contest the assertion when the door clicked open. Arwen's willowy form slipped in.

"Legolas." her steps were swift and sure as she approached the bedside. "Are you well?"

"I am, despite your brothers' insistence to the contrary."

Her serene amusement set a pleasant glow through her features. "I see I am not needed then."

"Unneeded unless you wish to escort our guest to his room." Elrond sighed, collecting his healing herbs. "I will have no more of this talk. Ai, Valar, what a pair of sons you have sent me."

"Come." Arwen extended her hand to help the wood-elf up.

"Fine, don't come calling me when he collapses in the corridor." Elrohir brushed away the fine leafy powder that had settled on his tunic.

"Nor I." Elladan stepped to the threshold. "Not injured, ha! If my raspberry tart is cold, that pesky elf will have good reason to visit this wing."

Elrond heaved another deep sigh and turned to Legolas. "Welcome, Thranduilion. May your stay be pleasant."

"Hannon le." Legolas bowed deeply before Arwen led him out into the hall.

She fell into step beside him easily, their long strides carrying them at relaxed pace. Her gaze flew up to catch his. "Your left elbow pains you."

His back stiffened.

"Do not fear." Her sparkling sapphire eyes were amused but held a serene promise to protect his secret. "I shall not badger you."

They continued on their way but he felt the need to explain himself. "It happened on a patrol a fortnight ago. The wound has closed but the healers said that I should refrain from archery for a spell."

"Then you fled here."

He squirmed, wondering when she had become so perceptive.

Her laughter spilled through hall. "Again, I shall not betray you. But you might wish to know that hiding your injury could be difficult. Elladan and Elrohir are already planning a tournament for tomorrow."

Legolas groaned.

**The End**


End file.
